In this excerpt from a memoir of love and war, a former Beirut correspondent recalls the way her experience of Lebanon's most turbulent times was shaped by the meals she ate throughout.
BY ANNIA CIEZADLO | MARCH 15, 2011
On February 14, 2005, a truck bomb filled with one ton of TNT ripped through the armored motorcade of Lebanon's former prime minister, Rafik Hariri. Soldiers and policemen gathered around the enormous crater the bomb blasted out of the road. Rescuers dragged charred bodies from flaming cars. On Future TV, the anchor wept as she announced that Hariri, the billionaire businessman who owned the television station, was dead. Angry crowds gathered at Hariri's mansion, just up the street from where I lived, chanting anti-Syrian slogans. Outside the hospital where the victims were taken, women rocked and sobbed and held one another.
Just hours after the killing, opposition politicians gathered at Hariri's house and drafted a statement accusing the Syrian regime and Lebanon's reigning pro-Syrian government of his murder. Hariri had never officially joined the opposition, but he was planning to run an independent slate in the upcoming parliamentary elections, and opposition politicians believed the Syrian regime killed him in order to prevent him from challenging its rule over Lebanon.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,......................
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